


Unnamed Feeling (Crazy on You)

by witchfynde



Category: Bandom, Flotsam and Jetsam - Fandom, Metallica
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Burn, goes from one to Sad ™ real quick, it gets sweet i promise, lots of emotions, lots of fluff after hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchfynde/pseuds/witchfynde
Summary: Jason tells Kirk an unfortunate story one night, but it turns around.
Relationships: Kirk Hammett/Jason Newsted
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Unnamed Feeling (Crazy on You)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first story here and i am very excited to share it !! as customary, i have to preface that i do not own anything in the story; everything written is pure fiction
> 
> story features '93 kirk and '97 jason, both addicts trying to turn their lives around

He’s silent, like he’d just witnessed an accident so horrific that he was at a loss for words. The more the thought rolls around his head, though, the more fitting the word becomes. “Accident”. It was never meant to happen. He was never meant to know.

Finally, Kirk speaks up—his trembling voice laced with pure sadness. “I’m sorry you had to lose your daughter that way.”

Jason sighs deeply and reclines in his chair, wincing when the worn edge of the crest rail digs uncomfortably into his shoulder. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and gently taps it against the ashtray. Jason speaks at last, and when he does, the smoke creeps out from behind his lips, and his warm breath wafts the bitter wisps into the cool night air. 

“It was my fault, really— I never should’ve taken my eyes off her.” 

“You only looked away for a second; there's _no_ way it could’ve been your fault.”

“I had a responsibility as a parent.” Jason’s voice is hard. It’s dark, even under the dim glow of Kirk’s porchlight, but Kirk can feel those cold, blue-grey eyes of Jason’s trained on him. 

“I had a responsibility to look out for and protect my kid and I _failed_.”

“But you did everything you could,” Kirk hesitates.

The two stare at each other for what seems like hours to Kirk. Jason’s eyes never felt colder than at that very moment— and yet, Kirk doesn’t let up. At long last they break contact when Kirk slumps back into his chair: watching straight ahead, studying the figures of the parked cars and street in front of him, what he can only make out to be anger and regret boiling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Part of the process is to stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control.” He blinks back tears, fearing that Jason will see them trailing down his cheeks and think he’s being too sensitive. “No one’s a fuckin’ fortune teller; you can’t expect to just _know_ when something bad is going to happen and blame yourself for it ‘cause you think you could’ve _changed_ it somehow. It’s what Sharon and Osbourne keep telling us: ‘you can't be guilty for something you didn't do’ or whatever.”

It’s Jason’s turn to be speechless. He’s never seen Kirk’s anger before, even if it’s tame compared to the anger he’s seen and dealt elsewhere. The stillness between them is dense and eerie; they’ve shared awkward pauses, but this is different. There’s weight. There’s pain. 

It’s Jason’s turn to break the silence. 

“I used to be part of another group before I came to this one. I wasn’t using the pills then, and it was all parents like me. There was this guy there, Kelly David-Smith if I remember right—young-lookin’. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was just someone’s son sittin’ there for support. But he was a young dad.” Jason pauses for a moment—takes in a deep breath, ashes his cigarette again—and quietly resumes. “His son was stolen when he was out at the park. Wasn’t even a minute that he turned away to check his pockets and, suddenly, no more kid. He went to the police, filed the report, whole hunt was started just to bring his boy home. He didn’t sleep the entire time—even left the doors unlocked in case he found his way back.”

Kirk swallows, fighting back the growing lump in his throat. He wanted to speak, but Jason kept going.

“He never told us the full details, but he said that his son was found under a bridge a day later. He got the report back, broke down. Apparently his son wasn’t dead for even an hour.”

Jason lifts a shaking hand and presses the cigarette to his lips again. The drag is quick and shallow, and he exhales in a trembling puff.

“Thirty-eight hours he looked for his son. And at thirty-seven, Kelly’s boy was taken from him forever. His boy’s life was snuffed out from him like _that_ ”—he snaps his fingers—”and Kelly had no idea. But he told us he was grateful it took him so long to find him.”

“Why?”

“Because,” the tears start to escape from Jason’s eyes and he bites back a sob, “he wasn’t like the rest of us. He wasn’t there when his kid died; he didn’t go through the pain of seeing his kid not make it through. Kelly looked for his boy but was too late. He never saw him die. The last time he saw his son, he was healthy and smiling, and he never saw it coming.”

Kirk keeps his lips parted. The stillness comes back for a moment after Jason finishes his story. The only sounds he can make out are the quiet sniffs and gasps Jason makes while he cries. He’s in awe at how far Jason made it through the tale. The pain he feels radiating off of him is unbearable, and he can tell it’s chipping away at Jason all over again. 

“Why are you telling me this if it hurts you so badly?”

Kirk immediately regrets his question, but Jason is quick to answer regardless of the aching clear in his voice.

“Because there isn’t a word for that kind of hurt. We all shared it in that group, but it never had a name. It wasn’t ‘addiction’, it wasn’t ‘widowing’, it wasn’t ‘abuse’. It was just ‘losing a child’. I’ve carried this with me for three years—I have a scar on my shoulder to remind me every day—but it never did have a simpler name. I lost my girl right before my eyes and I did everything I could to keep her here. All I got was a fucked up shoulder and a high schooler’s hook. I don’t have a name for what I’m going through, but I know that I’ll have it forever.”

Kirk turns his gaze back to the street in front of his home. Slowly, he nods, finally understanding the hurt and guilt that eats at his friend every day. There’s no way Jason can ever feel blameless for what happened. He’ll never be able to place the grief into another word. Kirk looks down forlornly at the wood of his porch for a moment before he looks back at Jason. His eyes are red and wet around the edges. He had stopped crying, though. Kirk wonders how many times Jason has told that story and cried before. 

He’s taken out of his spell when the floorboards creak and Jason starts to get up from his chair. He hears him sniff again and take in a quick breath. 

“Well, I should get going now. Eric’ll be wondering where I am and he’ll get pissy. God, sometimes I don’t know whether he’s my roommate or my dad.” 

Jason’s sudden lighthearted tone completely betrays the smothering weight of the air from before, but Kirk figures it’s for the best. He knows the two of them need to laugh.

Kirk quietly snorts. “You think he’ll start yellin’ at you like a girl coming home late on prom night?”

“Oh yeah, totally,'' he chuckles. “Bet he’ll give me the whole ‘ _I’ll kill your boyfriend_ ’ spiel if he catches me sneaking in.”

The two really laugh then, though Kirk is made a little uncomfortable from the joke. He blinks, and tenses, and clears his throat when he’s done laughing.

Jason is about to comment on the sudden change but quickly realizes his mistake. “Sorry if that upset you, I forgot-”

“I-It’s fine, happens all the time,” Kirk interrupts.

Another pause—this one shorter than the last—and Jason figures it’s best to take Kirk’s word and leave it there.

“Well, it was great catching up with you, man. Have a good night.” 

Jason’s halfway down the steps when Kirk suddenly jumps from his seat and grabs Jason’s shoulder, turning him around to face him. 

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“I walked my way over here, I can walk my way back no problem. Thank you, though.”

It feels like Jason won’t budge, but Kirk’s intent on being polite. “I think driving you will spare you a yelling from Eric.”

Jason pauses before bursting out with laughter, the pure sound being music to Kirk’s ears.

“Yeah, I think it will. Well, you lead the way.”

Kirk shoots him a smile before running back inside to fetch his keys. He comes back with both of their coats and unlocks the doors, holding the passenger’s side open for Jason. The sudden, kind gestures don’t go unnoticed by Jason, who—deep down—relishes in such small acts of kindness and consideration. He quickly stamps his dwindling cigarette out on the sidewalk and kicks it into the grass before he climbs in, buckles on his seatbelt, and waits for Kirk. Kirk, who just got in, turned on the ignition, and backed out of the driveway. He refused to put on his seatbelt at first, but after some playful arguing, he reluctantly put it on. Just for Jason. 

The drive to Jason and Eric’s place is peaceful, if not a bit awkward. At some point the silence started to get on Kirk’s nerves and he told Jason to find something he liked in the glove box. A minute—and a few moments of clumsiness that involved Jason accidentally dropping the CD on the floor of the car—later, the two finally had some sound between them. Even if it was Ted Nugent’s “Free for All”, much to Kirk’s chagrin. 

“I didn’t even _know_ I had _that_ in there,” Kirk chimes. “James must’ve left it here from the last time I drove him to a meeting.”

“What’s wrong with Ted Nugent? He’s a great guy; guy’s pushin’ fifty-something and still playing like it’s ‘76.”

Kirk snorts, “Of course _you’d_ think that.”

Jason gives him a playful slap on the arm and Kirk fakes a wince.

“What do you mean by ‘ _of course I’d think so_ ’?”

“‘Cause he’s from Michigan, just like you, dude.”

“Can’t a ‘Gander have some pride in his state?”

“Seriously, who would _want_ to be from Michigan? _Michigan_ of all states. I didn’t even know Michigan was a state ‘til the fourth grade.”

“What’s wrong with Michigan?” Jason puts a hand against his chest, feigning hurt at Kirk’s slander of his precious home state. “It’s a good state; probably better than _California_.” The mock disgust sends them reeling with laughter, making the car swivel ever so slightly on the road.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with Ted Nugent? I think he’s cool ‘n all, definitely a prized ‘Gander.”

“You promise not to think I’m a pussy if I tell you?” 

“Cross my heart,” and Jason draws an ‘x’ over his chest to prove it.

Kirk grins. “He’s such an ass. Seriously, how does a guy who spouts racist shit and writes songs about banging thirteen year olds get so famous?”

“That- you actually have a point there.”

“ _See?_ I’m not crazy! James called me a nancy for saying that.”

The two spent the rest of the drive cracking jokes and sharing stories, and at Kirk’s request, the music was changed to something they could both agree on: “Dreamboat Annie”, a favorite they both learned that they shared. Eventually they pulled up at Jason’s gate, and he was ready to leave.

“It’s been fun hanging out with you tonight, Jase. We should do it again sometime soon.”

“You have my number right? Call me when you’ve got time. Eric can’t keep me all cooped up forever.”

Kirk is thankful that it’s dark out, otherwise Jason would’ve caught the gentle blush settling on his cheeks. His friend unbuckles himself and throws his coat on. He bids his last goodbye with his grip on the handle when a soft, almost silent whisper of his name stops him in his place.

“Yeah?” 

“I just wanted to say- um, I- I really, really like you,” he stutters.

Jason blinks dumbly for a second while he processes what Kirk said. ‘Was that a confession?’ he thinks. He’d be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t feel anything towards Kirk. Something about him makes him go makes his head spin and his heart skip a beat. He wonders if he’ll wake up and find out it was all just a dream, and that Kirk didn’t speak the words he himself was too afraid to say. He must’ve been staring for too long when he sees Kirk’s expression fade into defeat. 

“I—” he takes a quick breath and tries not to stumble over his words—”I really like you too.” 

Jason catches the little gasp, and even through the darkness he can see Kirk’s face brighten. His heart is beating in his ears and it’s almost enough to drown out the sweet acoustic chords of “Crazy on You” playing in the background. It’s almost like a soundtrack now. The score that plays while he feels Kirk place a warm hand on his knee and scoots as close as he can from his seat.

“Is it okay if I- if I kiss you?”

“Y-Yeah.” Jason’s heart beats faster in his chest the closer Kirk gets, growing more nervous when he senses his warm breath ghosting just an inch from his face. “Where do I put my hands?”

“On me,” Kirk whispers. He tenderly grabs Jason’s wrists and lays one hand on his thigh, the other on his shoulder.

Jason instinctively cups the back of Kirk’s head and draws him closer until their lips finally meet. Their kiss is chaste and quick, but they part feeling warm and fuzzy all over. Especially Kirk. Jason picks up on the warm blush that graces Kirk’s face. Hell, he can _feel_ the warmth on his flesh as he teases his fingertips over the tender skin of his cheeks. Kirk’s nearly breathless even after such a tame embrace. But it’s what it means to him. To _them_ now. 

He craves more, a hunger for more sweet hands and gentle lips growing deep inside of his pounding heart. And Jason indulges him, almost as if he can read his mind.

The second kiss is better and longer than the first. The fresh wave of blood coursing through Jason and Kirk’s veins blessed them with new courage—enough to make them more daring and take it further. Kirk gasps when he feels a hand trail down to the small of his back. It retreats for a moment to unbuckle him and he takes a hand off of Jason to shimmy it off. The hand on his back returns and Kirk finds himself nearly getting pulled onto Jason’s lap. He could’ve managed if his car wasn’t so embarrassingly cramped, but for now, grasping onto the fabric of Jason’s shirt and throwing a knee over his leg will have to do.

Their lips part when they’re both in need of air. Jason’s chest rises and falls with every breath, and the hand Kirk has above his heart lets him feel how excited he is. The other hand he has in the short auburn locks on Jason’s head lets go to hold onto the back of his neck. He leans in to nuzzle his neck—Jason holds back a giggle when the short hairs of Kirk’s mustache tickle him. 

The soothing calm is accompanied by the final minute of “Crazy on You”. Jason feels as though there can never be a more perfect song for the occasion. He’s crazy for this man; this man who was leaving tender kisses on skin that hadn’t been touched in so long. 

Kirk pulls away when he realized that the song is almost over and that he’s been clinging onto Jason for the better half of it. He looks longingly into Jason’s blue-grey eyes, and strokes a loving hand against his stubbled cheek. Kirk leans in to give Jason a final peck on the forehead, finally letting go.

Jason sits for a moment while he collects himself. His heart’s fluttering for the first time in a while, and, like a teenager experiencing his first love, he is absolutely _smitten_. He lets out a quiet snort and smiles warmly at Kirk before opening the car door and stepping out at last.

“So you’ll call me, right?”

Kirk turns his face away while he wears out the giddiness that is overtaking him. 

“I’ll call you,” he nods, “and I’ll make sure to bring you home before curfew so your dad in there doesn’t get us both.”

The final laugh between them is sweeter than any before, and Jason closes the door to the car, makes his way to his gate, steps onto his porch, fishes out his keys, finally opening his door. He waves goodbye at Kirk before slinking into the threshold of his home for the night. Kirk takes it as his cue to leave, knowing that Jason made it home safe.

The drive back to his own place is a peaceful one. Even though the album in the car’s stereo continued without pause, Kirk keeps humming “Crazy on You” to himself until he gets back home. He parks in his driveway, turns off his car, gets back into his home without a need for keys—he accidentally left the door unlocked when he went to drive Jason home—changes into something more comfortable for the night, and makes his way into bed. The kiss they shared replays in his mind, and even when he turns off his light and closes his eyes to turn over and rest, he finds himself hearing the acoustic chords and gentle verses in the quiet air of his room. It’s a lullaby, and he goes to sleep happy for the first time in a while.


End file.
